


inspirations

by salakavala



Series: Thank you ficlets [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack-ish, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Model Thor, sculptor Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 16:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20624159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salakavala/pseuds/salakavala
Summary: Finding someone suitable to model for commissions was a pain in the ass... but, in Loki's fresh, first-hand experience, finding someone a littletoosuitable was an obstacle entirely of its own kind.





	inspirations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [horns4loki (ArtyGirl68)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtyGirl68/gifts).

> This is a thank you ficlet for Horns4Loki. Their prompt was sculptor Loki and Model Thor, and this is the result. Thank you so much for your help, I hope you will like this! <3

Loki groaned and dropped his forehead on the bar counter beside his half-drained vodka lemon. It had been a long day. A very long day. In fact, it had been the longest and hardest of his days since he had started working on his latest commission, and Darcy, who was supposed to be his friend, was being entirely unsympathetic, and don’t even think that Loki hadn’t noticed that she kept rolling her eyes at his problems, the traitor.

“Stop being such a dramatic bitch,” Darcy snorted, sipping at her strawberry margarita. So maybe Loki had said all that aloud, which was only good because at least now Darcy knew what a terrible friend she was being. “Besides, it’s like, what. Twice a week?”

“You don’t understand,” Loki moaned into the wood of the counter and turned to rest his cheek on it so that he could glare at his friend better.

She rolled her eyes at him, again.  “You bet I don’t. You needed a model for a commission. I recommended someone. You got your model, he gets a bit of pocket money, your  customer will get a helluva hot piece into his manor or whatever. So what’s the problem?”

“You said it,” Loki mumbled.

“Said what?”

“He’s _hot,_” Loki groaned and peeled his cheek off the sticky surface of the counter in order to bang his forehead on it for emphasis.

This show of despair clearly failed to move Darcy. “I get that, and my question stands. What’s the problem?”

She was probably being obtuse on purpose. She was probably having fun  at his expense. And why shouldn’t she? It was all her fault; it was she who had  recommended one Thor Odinson to Loki when he had complained that his customer had entirely unrealistic demands regarding his commission,  and now Darcy was refusing all responsibility. That was what Loki would have done, too, but he hated being on the receiving end of such smug smirks.

“How am I supposed to _work_ when he’s standing there half naked like a fucking Viking god?” he groaned.

Darcy took a nonchalant sip from her drink. “Look, I hate to break this to you, sweetie, but you’re a sculptor. Looking at hot half-naked guys is literally your job.”

“I _know_.” Loki pushed himself up to drain his glass, only to find it empty even though it most certainly was not when he had last looked. _What_ had he done for the universe to hate him so?

“And Thor’s stupid tricky to sculpt,” he complained, reaching for Darcy’s margarita, which she deftly moved out of his range. “He’s got ten times more muscle than a normal human should reasonably have. He has muscles everywhere.”

“Outrageous.” Darcy finished her drink and beckoned to the bartender for another one.

“Yes!” _Finally_ she was getting it. “Do you have any idea of how hard it is to get something like that right without knowing how it feels in your hands?”

“Oh-_ho_.” Darcy whistled low. “You get to _feel_ him, is that what you’re saying?”

“For art purposes! To get the tricky parts right!”

Darcy got her drink. Another margarita, this time with lime  and  a  straw in it.  “Mm-hmm.  Sure. ”

Loki glared at her.

She put her glass down and tapped  the counter with her impeccably painted nails. “Look, why don’t you just, I don’t know, text him? Ask him out if you’re so into him?”

Loki buried his face in his arms folded on the counter. “I can’t,” he whined plaintively. “I’m a  _professional.”_

__

“So you can’t ask him out but you’re totally fine with groping him every chance you get?”

__

“For art! For art purposes!”

__

“Sure, okay, whatever you say. For art purposes. So what’s his response to your longing looks and wandering hands?”

__

“Not wondering. Purposeful. Purposeful hands, for the sake of the commission.” Loki knew he was dancing around the question, and clumsily at that, but he could not _ever_ tell Darcy of that look Thor had in his eyes whenever he caught Loki ogling. As if he could tell when Loki’s gaze turned from professional to, hm. Subjectively admiring. And whenever Loki asked to feel him, _professionally_, Thor did this… not a wink, not really, but the spirit was there. And his full lips pulled up at the corners into an infuriating smirk when Loki would blush furiously. Like he absolutely knew what he was doing to Loki and enjoyed it immensely and unrepentantly. Like he was just waiting for Loki to snap.

__

But he couldn’t tell that to Darcy. She would just get ideas. Or something. She would say something Loki wouldn’t want to hear.

__

“Kiss my arse, Loki.”

__

Loki buried  his nose deeper into his arms.  “I’d rather kiss his,”  he  mumbled,  and received a smack on the back of his head for his honesty.

__

“Loki – TMI.”

__

“Then don’t ask.”

__

“I didn’t. You just keep moaning about it.”

__

Loki glared at her. Darcy shrugged.

__

“Look, Loki. You can whine as much as you want, but the bottom line is this: either ask him out, or shut up and do your job. You’re a professional. You can handle this.”

__

Loki peered at her suspiciously. She was probably drunk; normally she would never be so encouraging.

__

Darcy sipped at her drink and smirked at him. “Most importantly: whatever you do, keep me updated.”

__

“There won’t be anything to update,” Loki mumbled into his arms, and waved for another drink.

__

__

__

__

__

The rays of the gentle evening sun dribbled through the half-closed blinds on the large windows of Loki’s workshop, and spilt over Thor’s skin in warm stripes. Like paint on a master’s brush, the golden light accentuated the perfect curves and dips of Thor’s physique, bringing out his unearthly, masculine beauty.

__

He was majestic.

__

Looking at him, Thor’s near naked body in all its glory was poetry of flesh, entwining carnal with ethereal, divinity with corporal. Looking at him, professionalism seemed an empty, ridiculous notion hovering in the far corners of Loki’s mind.

__

Loki’s gaze glided over the shape of Thor’s bare biceps, his hand following slowly, unhurriedly. Down the arm, to the waist; and lower, to the narrow but oh, so powerful hips. He slipped his hand beneath the sheet Thor had half-heartedly covered them both with, and grabbed a feel of Thor’s shamelessly firm ass that he had so far only allowed himself to admire from afar.

__

Oh, Loki’s commissioner would be satisfied indeed, because Loki was a perfectionist when it came to his work, and Thor…

__

Perhaps Loki ought to destroy his work once it was finished. Take a hammer to it, or push it down the stairs. He’d do it, without a drop of remorse. He would rather waste hours upon hours of diligent work than have anyone else get any piece of Thor, even if it was only in form of a sculpture.

__

He pushed the thoughts of his customer aside. Here, in his workshop, there was only Thor. Only Thor, and Loki, and the sculpture only beginning to find the shape of its model. Not that it ever could reach the perfection of the original; stone would never feel the same as the flesh filling Loki’s palm.

__

Thor’s rumbling laugh was all hot breath and tingly vibration against the skin beneath Loki’s ear. He rolled over Loki leisurely, like only he could, and settled atop him, a pleasant, grounding, titillating weight. Why had Loki ever fought to resist him for so long? Why, when he could have had this from the start? He moaned when Thor’s half-hard cock rubbed against his own stirring want, and spread his thighs wider, despite the pleasant ache, to accommodate Thor better.

__

He nearly moaned again when Thor’s beard grazed the sensitive skin on his neck, and when Thor gently bit the tip of Loki’s ear, Loki’s entire body tingled from head to toe. Heat spilt inside him and centred in his lower belly.

__

Thor rolled his hips lazily against Loki’s. His eyes, dark despite the evening sun, glinted with amusement and desire. “Again?”

__

And Loki, blissfully unconcerned, opened himself to Thor.

__

“_Again_.”

__

__

__


End file.
